The Burning of the Ring
by CleopatraVII
Summary: Frodo and Legolas are talking and the ring starts to burn, making Frodo fly into an insane rage...*COMPLETE* Continued in The Ring's Powers Grow
1. Burning of the Ring

Author's Note: I do not own these characters. I also do not hate Legolas, despite what it might seem in this story, though Frodo is my favorite character. I saw the movies, and am reading the books right now, so I'm learning. Erm… I usually write mostly Stephen King or Harry Potter, so cut me some slack on this, it's my first Lord of the Rings fic, okay? I hope it's up to standards. Please review!

Chapter One: Burning of the Ring

Frodo and Legolas stood chatting. They were alone at the moment, and were making good use of the time by trading stories about their lives. Legolas had many stories; each funny and unique in it's own way.

As they talked, Frodo became increasingly aware of how alone they were. Legolas' voice echoed of the high, grimy, slate-gray walls, though he was speaking in hardly more of a whisper. He listened, and heard no one else moving or speaking outside of the room.

He looked around at the room. The walls were tall and a grimy gray. The floor was the same color as the walls, except it seemed to be emitting a blue-ish glow (very faint) that was the only source of light. If not for the glow, the room would have been completely black.

Still, there were no sounds other than Legolas. No birds, no people; nothing. Just a silence wafting from behind the door. 

"Excuse me, but where is everyone, Legolas?" Frodo asked anxiously.

Legolas rolled his eyes, smiled, and continued on with his stories. 

"Legolas? Where are they?" Frodo asked, a bit more anxiously.

Legolas didn't reply, merely turned his back on Frodo, still telling of when some Elf had fallen out of a tree and nearly killed himself (not that Frodo was really listening anymore) and poured himself a cup of water out of a pitcher Frodo hadn't noticed before.

Frodo opened his mouth to ask again (perhaps Legolas didn't understand, he thought) and froze. The ring burned against his chest, growing hotter by the moment.

"Legolas, the ri--" Frodo started, then stopped, his mouth shutting. He was suddenly furious with the Elf. How dare he not answer? What had come over him? Perhaps he needed to be taught a lesson…

While Legolas remained turned around, Frodo grasped the knife that served him as a sword. Legolas chuckled at some memory, and Frodo felt a new flash of rage.

The ring burned painfully against his chest, seemingly urging him on. He crept across the floor to an unsuspecting Legolas, who still had not turned around. In fact, he had finally paused with his story to take a drink. Wetting his throat so he could continue. Oh, how Frodo detested him right then.

"Then, can you believe it, Elrond reached down to pick the fool up, and he--" Legolas was cut off as Frodo buried the knife/sword into his spine. He severed Legolas' spinal cord instantly.

Legolas collapsed in a bloody heap. His eyes were ripped comically wide open, and he kept muttering "urk" over and over. 

"Yeah. 'Urk'." Frodo said, then buried the sword in Legolas' throat. 

Legolas jerked, then slumped. All was silent. Well, not totally silent... Frodo could here Legolas' blood pattering softly on the cold floor, but the pattering was already growing softer. Frodo smirked down at Legolas for a moment…before the smirk melted from his face and turned to an expression of horror.

"Oh, God!" Frodo yelped. The ring still burned on his chest, but now it seemed to be scoffing at him.

Frodo dropped to his knees, and hugged Legolas' corpse. " N-no! Please! It…it was the ring! Legolas, no! I'm so sorry! P-please, come back, you supposed to be IMMORTAL, you Elf! Come BACK! I didn't mean it! Don't you die! No! You cannot join Gandalf, I won't let you!" Frodo yelled, shaking the corpse slightly. The only reply he got was more blood splashing from Legolas' wounds. 

After a while, the splattering slowed, leaving Frodo holding a blood-smeared corpse in a large, dim room. Frodo became aware of how alone he was. The silence became more pronounced without the Elf's old stories.

Frodo heaved, the ring burning hotter than ever against his chest. 

Author's Note: I think this will be kinda short, maybe a few more chapters. Please (pretty please with whatever toppings you like on top) review! Seriously, it helps! Please?


	2. Sam

Author's Note: Okay, the first chapter was kind of bloody. Like I said, I do not hate Legolas, or harbor any other violent feelings towards him. He's just an extra who's kinda cool, in my opinion. I just like it when main characters kill each other off- like in that show, Celebrity Death Match. Please review!

Chapter Two: Sam

Frodo stayed like that for quite a while, until long after the pattering of the blood had stopped, and his friend was dead. He sobbed onto Legolas' still (and steadily colder) chest, apologizing profusely. He ignored the smell of blood filling his nostrils, covering his face, and invading his mouth.

"Why couldn't you tell me where they are? I don't know! Please, forgive me, my friend, can you do that?" was what he was murmuring when footsteps began to echo through the hallway.

Frodo froze, every muscle in his body tensing. He glanced at his sword (which was still buried in Legolas' throat) to see whether or not it was blue. It wasn't, and he relaxed a fraction of an inch. No Orcs, he thought, relieved.

He breathed for a moment, then his eyes widened. 

What was wrong with him?! People were coming, and he was covered in blood leaning over the corpse of his late friend, the Elf Legolas. 

The punishment would be terrible, for Legolas had been widely loved by all he helped. What would Frodo's friends think? What excuse did he have? "The ring," he murmured, tears coursing through the drying blood on his face. 

"Yes, the ring burned," they would say, "…but did that mean you had to heed it? You are a murderer, Frodo Baggins!" and it would be true. True! It was, after all, his fault that Legolas lay in a puddle of his own blood, his long blond hair matted and glistening with blood, his eyes wide and unseeing, an expression of pain and disbelief on his face, and a sword buried deep into his throat.

Time seemed to have sped up, but the footsteps had simultaneously slowed down. If they continued that slowly, Frodo could have a chance to…to…

To what? He asked himself. He glanced at the sword in the Elf's throat. He shuddered (did I do that?) and reached towards it. He grasped it, and quickly pulled it out, surpressing a moan as he did so. The blade slid out easily, making a small sucking sound as it did so, and Frodo felt his stomach try to betray him.

No, He told himself, I will NOT throw up on him…that would be…that would be…

The footsteps were closer, almost outside of the door to this vast room. They came closer until they were right outside of the large doors.

They paused, then the door slowly cracked open. Frodo tried to move, but found himself paralyzed. For a brief instant, he could see himself as he would look to whoever came in, but then the vision was gone.

The door opened a bit further, and an arm carrying a lantern poked in, lighting up the room. A head followed the arm.

Frodo didn't recognize the face at first, but after a moment he did. It was a face he well recognized from the Shire. 

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, then his eyes widened. They darted from Legolas' corpse to Frodo. "Mr. Frodo! Mr. FRODO?!"

Author's Note: Okay, this will make sense in the next chapter. I do have an idea of what I'm doing here, believe it or not (lol)…please review! PLEASE!


	3. Wakening

Author's Note: Okay, hope you like this! I do NOT own these people, though I do enjoy the books, movies, etc. Please review!

Chapter Three: Waking

"Mr. Frodo?"

Sam shook Frodo, and he finally was pulled from the grips of his dream... if that's what it could be called.

"Wha?" He asked, whipping his head around, searching for the copse of Legolas. He found that instead of in a high-walled room, he was in a lush forest, Sam's face staring worriedly down at him.

"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Nothing, it was just a—Ahh!" Frodo yelped. The ring really was burning against his chest- it lay like a burning ember. Frodo felt that the skin on his chest was charring with each passing moment. 

Frodo whipped the ring off of his neck, and put it in his pocket. The pocket began to warm up instantly, but Frodo tried his best to ignore it. The fabric grew hotter, then began to cool down after a while.

"Mr. Frodo? What--" Sam began.

"Nothing!" Frodo said, a bit more sharply then he intended. He saw the hurt look on Sam's face, and said, "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to bite. It was just a dream." Then he repeated, as if trying to convince himself, "A dream."

"Oh, okay, sir. I merely woke you up because you were moaning and crying and saying…never mind. Should we be moving on?" Sam asked, still looking slightly hurt.

Frodo patted him on the shoulder, and got up. "Yes, let's move on now." Frodo said, smiling kindly at Sam, hoping to repair any hurt feelings. Then he frowned as he packed up his belongings and asked, "What was I saying, Sam?"

Sam winced. "Perhaps you are better off not knowing."

"Sam…" Frodo said, staring Sam down.

Sam sighed, giving in. "You were saying, 'Murder, murderer, murdered.' over and over again. It was like a chant, and it frightened me quite badly, Mr. Frodo." Sam said, avoiding Frodo's eyes and blushing.

Frodo paled and shook his head. "T'was but a dream, Sam, and nothing more."

"I know, sir." He said quickly, not sure if Frodo was talking to him…or to himself, as Frodo did often.

"Good. We'll not speak of this. Now, let's hurry; we'd best be on." Frodo said, shouldering his pack.

Sam nodded and shouldered his own pack. Then they moved on, never knowing miles away Legolas was also waking from a dream.

~*~*~*~

"Frodo!" He yelled, sitting up straight and grasping at his throat and back. "FRODO!" Shortly after his second yell, Legolas came to his senses, realizing he was alive, and Frodo was miles away, probably waking from the same terrible dream he had just woken from.

Aragorn and Gimli had already woken, grabbing at their swords (and, in Gimli's case, axe).

Seeing this, Legolas said, "No, it is all right."

"What happened?" Aragorn asked, looking mildly disgruntled as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

Legolas thought carefully of the words he would say (for he did not want to worry his friends to badly), then said, "I fear for Frodo."

"We could've guessed _that_, Elf." Gimli growled. He yawned, eyeing his bed longingly. "We all do. Tell us something new." 

"The ring is taking over him. He is…full of rage when it does. I dreamt he murdered me because I failed to answer a question. Murdered me quite painfully." Legolas said, and winced at the startled expression on his friends' faces.

"Frodo is strong; surely he would never give into the ring and murder…" Aragorn began, but was cut off by Legolas.

"No, _he_ wouldn't, but the ring would. It is powerful- and evil- and when he felt that Gandalf had died, something died within him. Something vital that kept his hopes high. He is weaker now because of that, and the ring will take advantage of that. Surely you have felt it too?" Legolas asked, studying their faces hard.

Aragorn and Gimli were silent for a moment, then Aragorn replied, "Yes, I suppose we have."

*~ The end…or to be continued? ~*

Author's Note: I hope this story was okay, I might continue it in another story. Please review, and tell me what you think. Thanks! J 


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